Lenore Skomal: 6 degrees of Erie reaches Caribbean

Lenore Skomal

March 21, 2013 12:01 AM

Lenore Skomal

March 21, 2013 12:01 AM

This is a true story. The names have not been changed because there are no innocent.

My sister is sitting at a nameless bar with her husband on an island in the middle of the Caribbean last weekend. A man walks in and sits down next to her. He looks at her. She looks at him. She has no idea who he is. He looks at her again, this time more closely. The first thing out of his mouth is, "Do you have a sister named Lenore?" She drops her beer nuts with a soft clatter on the bar top.

Of course, when she sent me a text photo of him sitting with her in this unlikely of places, it oddly made complete sense to me. After all, I've lived here long enough to expect this type of the unexpected.

This friend of mine, seeing my likeness in a stranger thousands of miles from home, just assumed we must be related. And of course, he was right. He's from Erie, after all, and it just made sense.

When my dumbfounded sister and I chatted afterward, I told her, "Quite frankly, you've been Erie-ed." But unless you live here, you don't know what that means. It's hard to wrap your mind around the freakish six degrees of separation that's so commonplace here, it's considered as normal as freak snowstorms in spring and french fries on salad.

Because these things happen in groups, I knew there was at least one more to come. So I wasn't surprised the next day when I got an e-mail from a Boston friend, telling me about a recent luncheon with her former college roommate. I think you know where this is going.

Yes, her former roommate's from Erie, just happens to be related to one of my best friends and also knows who I am because her mother sends her my column regularly.

This goes way beyond the belief that Erie is a city within a small town. It's quite simply, otherworldly. I believe we live in some vortex of sorts with this curious, potent magnetic field that continually draws us to each other, regardless of where we travel. Once painted with this aura, it sticks.

My sister's been to Erie only several times. But apparently, it's enough. Still rattled by the chance encounter, she will slowly get used to it, just as I have.

It's to the point where I just expect to run into someone from Erie wherever I go on this planet. I have yet to be proven wrong.